


breathe you in for the rest of my life

by hale_and_hearty



Category: The Seven Realms Series - Cinda Williams Chima
Genre: F/M, M/M, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hale_and_hearty/pseuds/hale_and_hearty
Summary: Everything is fine until Han Alister starts watching him. That's when it becomes a problem.//Being Raisa's back-corridor secret wasn't good enough for Han. But it would be good enough for Amon.





	breathe you in for the rest of my life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emptythoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptythoughts/gifts).



> No one else in the fandom has done this, so I had to take one for the team. Thanks Terri for dragging me head first into another weird fandom and for encouraging me to write my wildest ot3 desires "as long as it's not smut." 
> 
> Also I'm still reading the sequel series and I started this before I started reading those so I just kept all my canon inaccuracies and ran with them smh fight me.
> 
> Title is taken from Han's proposal in The Crimson Crown.

 It starts like this.

Raisa is pregnant and glowing, the swell of her stomach a shy sillhouette under her gowns. Over dinner, Anna wears a smile, one hand on her own empty stomach. She is a picture of delight and interest as she asks Raisa about the baby. Amon is the only one who knows her smile is forced. 

"Hanalea if it's a girl," Raisa is saying, rosy-cheeked and beaming, "and Han if it's a boy." 

This seems to startle Han, who hadn't been listening. He gives her a wild look. "No," he says flatly, and Raisa laughs, and Han looks at Amon and says, "Maybe Hayden. We haven't decided." 

Annamaya's smile tightens, her eyes dim. They've been trying for too long for it to be anything but their fault. In quiet, trembling arguments, Annamya has told Amon that he cursed them in his own refusal to love her. But Amon tried. He tried so hard. 

So Raisa is with child and Annamaya is not. Amon takes to spending less time than ever at home, as little as he can get away with whilst still performing his duties as a husband. Some days it seems like Annamaya would prefer it if he never came home. Some days, Amon considers it. 

How easy it would be to leave and not come back. 

He spends one too many nights in seedy taverns down in Soutshide. Under Raisa's reign and the rebuilding of the city after the seige, most of the city is honest, doing good work for good wages, with plenty of food to go around under the Briar Rose ministry. But some shady characters have slipped through the cracks and continued to thrive. No one respectable goes to the taverns. This is how Amon continues to slip in and out with fancy girls and boys without drawing notice or recognition. 

He's two pints in one evening and still making a decision--the eternal struggle between stumbling home drunk to Annamaya and trying again or picking someone from the tavern and going upstairs for the night--when someone starts singing a ballad of Raisa ana'Marianna and her beloved street wizard, Cuffs Alister. 

In the few years since their marriage, hundreds of ballads have been written and rewritten. Everyone loves their warrior queen and her wizard consort. But Amon hasn't heard this one before. 

_In for a penny, out with your girlie (or man!), kidnapping the princess heir and stealing her hand!_

It gives Amon pause, to think about the infamous Han Alister with a man. He's never heard that before, but--well, this isn't exactly an esteemed environment. Maybe they made it up to rile up some of their different clientele. 

But then Amon thinks of Han's hands on  _his_  hips, mouth on his neck and stubble scraping over his skin, and he shudders.  _Yes,_ he thinks, _that's what I want_. It's a dangerous thing to think, to want something that belongs to the queen. 

Amon pushes aside what's left of his pint. He's too inebriated to think clearly, and he needs to go home to his wife. His  _wife_ , who is desperately trying to have his children and make their cold marriage warm again. Amon shouldn't be thinking about what it would feel like to have Han's hands on him. He shouldn't be thinking about Han at all. 

* * *

 But then this happens: Amon can't stop thinking about Han. He goes home that night and lies with his wife and it's good, for once, even if he's imagining someone else's hard body against his own instead of her soft curves. He gets up in the morning and doesn't even remember thinking of Han like that the night before. That is, until Han finds him, amulet visible against his chest, wearing that devilishly charming street smile of his. 

"I'm going up to the camps," he says, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his blade, "Tired of city life and wizardry and kissing the asses of bluebloods. Come with me." 

That's when Amon remembers wondering what it would feel like to have that crooked smile wrapped around his cock, and his heart starts racing, and he's powerless to say no. 

He and Han have grown closer since the wedding, which was inevitable because of their shared love for Raisa. Amon just never expected to get  _this_ close to him. 

He can't keep his eyes off of him, the entire ride and then weekend spent in Marisa Pines. Han with his head thrown back whooping with laugher, Han hiking up through the mountains for the pure joy of being in them, the long lines of his muscles as they stretch and pull, Han with his face lit in the glow of a warm campfire, relaxed and satisfied from a long day. Amon's heart beats faster and faster. 

In the end, they return four days earlier than planned. Neither of them are keen to stay away from Raisa and the baby any longer. 

* * *

 Annamaya gets pregnant, and for once, they aren't fighting. Their house is quiet except for her pleased humming, and when Amon finds her in the kitchen it's easy to kiss her neck and put a hand over her stomach and pretend like everything between them is fine. But he never takes his eyes off of Han Alister. 

During fancy dinners with the Fells' assorted nobility, Amon and Han sit on either side of Raisa, and talk softly across the table as Raisa's voice rings out loud and clear, the perfect image of a good, inviting, hospitable queen. When she doesn't listen to Han's snide remarks, Amon does, and he coughs laughter into his fist and Han's eyes light up. It feels like they're in their own private club, like no one else is in the room. Amon's eyes track the motion of Han's hands as he gestures and the small tugging of muscles around his eyes as he grins and the lean line of his neck as he tosses his head back, laughing. Amon knows Han isn't looking back, but it feels like he is. He tells himself he doesn't want him to be looking, because Amon is married and his first love will always be Raisa, anyways, but... Well, it's just looking. As long as Han isn't looking back, it's okay. 

* * *

 And then Raisa is very, very pregnant, and still beautiful. She keeps a hand on her swollen belly and waddles around the castle in a loose tunic and leggings, refusing to don the fancy dresses Magret sometimes tries to insist she wear. Her hair is longer now than it has been in years, swinging around her shoulders, and she constantly ties it back and complains that she'll have to cut it short again when she has the baby, or just wear her hair in lots of braids. Annamaya braids flowers into her hair, looking equally pregnant despite being a near two months behind her, and Amon watches them together and wonders, not for the first time, what life would have been like had he not sworn himself in Raisa's protection. Would it have made a difference? Would she have loved him like she loves Han now? 

Annamaya's pale fingers graze over the sun-golden skin of Raisa's neck, sweeping more loose hairs into the braid, and Amon watches. Imagines his own mouth against the warm skin, imagines a Raisa pregnant with his child. Imagines Raisa pregnant and not knowing if it's his child or Han's, and not caring. 

Amon's met them, before. There's no real name for them, not like the Temple of the Moon has _moonspinners_ or the Temple of the Sun has _sunspinners_. But sometimes three people all fall in love, even if it's not very common, or very publicly acknowledged. Amon thinks about finding himself with Raisa and Han, like that, imagines being intimately part of them, and wants it so badly it hurts. 

It's easy to watch the two of them and imagine what their lives would be like if they loved him, too. But he's content to just watch. He'll watch forever, if he has to, or at least until he learns to love Annamaya or learns to let go. 

* * *

 So everything is fine, really, until Han Alister starts watching him. That's when it becomes a problem. 

Amon startles the first time he catches him. He'd planned on just sneaking a peek, at Han sweaty and shirtless in the courtyard, practicing his swordfighting with Hallie and Talia. Then he glances again and Han is drinking water, bright eyes locked on Amon. 

Amon flushes and averts his eyes, stumbling over his response to Raisa's question. But she just laughs and pats his leg. 

"It's okay, Amon," she whispers, "I won't tell Annamaya if you look at them."

He knows she's talking about Hallie and Talia, and shakes his head, pushing her hand away. "I don't want your permission," he says, flatly, "I shouldn't be looking." He stands, bows, says, "Your Majesty," and excuses himself from the courtyard. He feels eyes on him until he's safely inside. He's not sure if they were Raisa's or Han's.

* * *

 And then Raisa has the baby, and after Han and Raisa, Amon is the first person to hold her. She's wailing when Han passes her off to him, a scared and desperate look on his face, and Amon squares his shoulders because  _he can do babies_ , and takes little Hanalea in his arms and hushes her. 

"Mama's sleeping, Hana," he whispers, brushing the back of his knuckles over her chubby cheeks. "Don't wake her."

She quiets almost instantly, to a soft whimper, and then falls asleep. Amon looks up at Han with wide eyes to find him dozing off himself, eyes closed, mouth open where he's collapsed in the bedside chair. Amon gently rocks Hana back and forth, back and forth, and watches over his queen and her husband and their baby, and ignores the warm,  _right_ feeling curling in his stomach.

* * *

 Going on nine weeks after, Annamaya has the baby, a large, healthy boy that they name Simon. She holds him protectively against her chest and won't let anyone else touch him for days, not even Amon. 

Nearly a week later, she finally relents, letting Amon hold his son for the first time and seeing Annamaya's eyes and his nose reflected back at him. Annamaya sits stubbornly, still on bed rest after the hard birth, and grumbles, "He's nearly her age. God forbid he follow in your footsteps and spend the rest of his life pining after a girl who won't ever love him."

Amon just looks at her, and she sighs, eyes welling with tears. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry, I just wish--"

"I'm sorry, too," Amon replies, voice rasping. God, is he sorry. Annamaya deserved better than him. And his son will deserve better than to live and die in love with Hanalea ana'Raisa. 

* * *

 "We should raise them like siblings," Raisa tells Amon when Simon is a few weeks old. It's just the two of them and the children, a rare quiet moment in the courtyard. Hana is feeding, a blanket draped over Raisa's body to protect her modesty. Simon is asleep, curled against Amon's chest. They're sitting so close their arms are a solid, warm line of contact. "That way they never love each other, like we did. So they never have to lose each other."

Her voice breaks, and she rests her head on his shoulder. Amon doesn't say anything, just rests his head atop hers. It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. Old wounds. She doesn't still love him. That's not possible.

* * *

 But then this happens. Someone tries to kill Hana, and Amon moves into the chambers next to Raisa and Han's to keep a better eye on them.

There's no word for weeks. No sign of who might have done it. They suspect it was Montaigne, and they suspect he had an inside man, and then everyone in the castle is under suspicion. Amon lays awake in bed at night and worries about the couple in the next room and their tiny, tiny baby, and if whoever tried the first time is going to try again.

But Han and Raisa don't seem to have the same worries, because Amon hears them one night, Raisa's quiet whimpers and Han's groaning, and he's ashamed that he slides a hand into his sleep pants as he listens. 

"Don't you ever think about him in here with us?" Raisa whispers. "In his tight little uniforms, always so proper. God. Imagine watching him unwind."

"Imagine unwinding him," Han groans in response, and Amon comes in his hand. 

He leaves the chamber after that, takes a cold bath in the adjoining bathroom and runs water until they're done and he can't hear them anymore. He doesn't want to know who they're thinking about. He doesn't want to listen and feel guilty for listening.

* * *

 And then Han looks at him like he knows. Amon tells himself it's his own guilty conscience; Han has been watching him, almost subtly, for over a month now. Amon isn't sure what it means and he doesn't want to examine it.

What he  _does_ know is that it's nothing new, Han watching him when he thinks Amon isn't noticing, so Han doesn't know that Amon can hear them, every night, having a breathy discussion of how a mystery man's trousers shape his figure. He has a suspicion that he knows who this mystery man is and then he doesn't know what to do with it, so he does nothing. Life continues on as usual.

He goes home for the afternoon every few days to spend time with Simon, who mostly sleeps, and Annamaya, who mostly cleans the house and says nothing at all. She makes it clear she dislikes Amon living in the palace in the tense lines of her shoulders and her curt, one-word responses to Amon's questions. Amon eventually stops asking them.

* * *

 And then someone somehow manages to sneak past all the guards and into Han and Raisa's room, and gets a knife to little Hana's throat before Amon runs him through with his own blade. The man falls and Amon grabs Hana up, double checks that she wasn't hurt--her wailing worries him, but he thinks she's more scared than hurt--and hands her off to Raisa, who is crying, Han right behind her with his arms over his chest, glowering, his amulet glowing bright with his anger.

"Sell sword," Han says murderously, and Amon nods, stooping to inspect the body. There's nothing to mark him for one kingdom or another. There's nothing to tie him to anyone.

"Most likely Adren," Amon says, softly. "Montaigne wouldn't risk sending one of his own, someone who would be early recognized."  

There is silence. Then, Raisa speaks, voice trembling. "I don't want this to happen again. Make sure it doesn't, Amon." She sounds every bit the queen she is despite the tears running down her cheeks and the trembling in her voice. Amon bows low, and leaves the room.

Some things, like his respect and admiration for Raisa ana'Marianna, never die, instead growing with each passing day.

* * *

 And then this happens. Nothing.

No one tries to kill Hana again. Raisa and Han's corridors are blocked off, and no one but the queen, her consort, and Amon himself are permitted into that block of the palace. Amon even posts a guard in the rooftop garden, just to be safe. He doesn't say why, but he makes sure someone is always there. 

But nothing happens. They speak with every individual in the palace grounds and find every single one of them trustworthy. There's no hint that it might happen again. And yet.

And yet. 

Amon stays in the chambers next to Han and Raisa's and listens to them, night after night, as they begin to relax and then begin sharing fantasies again in those high, breathy moans. 

And then one night after Han and Raisa are finished and Amon's sleep pants are sticky, he hears them speaking in low, quiet voices.

"Do you ever think he hears us?" Raisa asks. Her voice is sleepy but loud enough that Amon can still hear her.

Han makes a whimpering sound and Amon shivers, body valiantly trying to get hard again. Han says, "God, yes, every night." 

Raisa's responding laugh is warm and husky. "Slut," she teases. "It gets you off harder, doesn't it? Imagining him next door, listening to us, one hand wrapped around his cock..."

And if that's not all the proof Amon needs, then he doesn't know what else would be enough. They want him. But Amon knows, he knows. He can't have Raisa. His father made sure of that years ago.

"It's not just a sex thing," Han tells Raisa now. "Amon has been...a good friend. For both of us."

"He's the best friend," Raisa agrees softly. "He's a good man. I sometimes wish things had been different."

"That you'd married him instead?"

"That I could have both of you," Raisa retorts. Amon can hear her soften. "Is that selfish? To love you both and want to keep you both?"

"No," Han replies, low and sweet, "No, I feel the same way."

* * *

 So this is how it ends. 

Amon finds Han in a back corridor, and before Han can quirk his brow and quip something sarcastic, Amon has slammed him up against the wall. 

Han huffs a breathy laugh and angles his hips down away from Amon's, the movement sending a rush of heat to Amon's stomach as he realizes just why Han doesn't want their hips to meet. 

"Did you need something, Captain?" Han asks wryly. "Is something wrong?" 

Amon stares at him, trying to figure out how to explain that he wants this, that he wants them. Han arches a brow, and Amon's eyes are drawn to his Cupid's bow lips, twisting with a smirk. 

And. Well. Amon has always been a man of action rather than words. 

He takes Han's jaw in his hands and their lips connect in a bruising kiss, and like a taut string snipped in half, Han relaxes into it, arms winding desperately around Amon's neck, pulling him closer, closer, impossibly closer. 

And this is how Raisa finds them, a gasp startling from her. They pull apart messily, lips wet, and her hand goes to her mouth, eyes wide, cheeks flushing with desire. "I'm sorry," she whispers, hoarse, "I didn't know..." 

"Kiss her," Han says, eyes only for Amon, voice low and warm and curling around something deep in Amon's stomach. "I want you to. I want to see." 

So Amon puts one hand on Raisa's slender waist and the other on her cheek. Before their lips meet, he whispers, "Are you sure...?" 

And Raisa has always been taking care of him, so she grips his forearms in her small hands and says, "The line is secure, Captain. It's okay. You can kiss me now."

And that's as good as it gets, for Amon. It doesn't matter that's he's still married and he has a child and so do Han and Raisa. Han gets whatever he wants, anyways, he tells himself. It doesn't even matter if Amon resists. If Han wants this, he'll find a way to make it happen--Amon has seen him do it before.

So why resist?

"I feel like I should tell you," he murmers, just before their lips touch, "that your chamber walls are incredibly, incredibly thin."

Their lips meet to the cacophony of delighted laughter peeling out of Han's lips, and it's everything.


End file.
